A Summer in Ohio
by Sincerely Marigold
Summary: A sweet little one shot in which Annabelle and William Tavington deal with marital peril, ride horses, drink gin and enjoy the natural beauty of Ohio. Not quite an alternate ending for my other fic, "Only Through Victory", but more of a "what if scenario/word doodle". Total cheese fest, best enjoyed with Triscuits. I do recommend reading "Only Through Victory" first for context...


**Severe Historical Inaccuracy Warning** : My highly intellectual history buff of a father told me after the fact that the song, "Goober Peas" is from the Civil War era and wasn't even a twinkle in the eye of musical literature during the American Revolution. Since this entire oneshot takes countless liberties and even contradicts the snot out of its predecessor "Only Through Victory" with a wooden stick… I let it slide for the sake of adorableness. Exit Lisa pursued by a bear.

William and Annabelle Tavington fell in love with Ohio in a heartbeat. How could they not? From the endless waves of rolling hills to the sparkling brooks that graced its terrain with playful intrepidity, it was nothing short of paradise for any lover of nature. Evening horseback rides were customary for the couple. Such rides provided them not only with the means to escape their occupations for a while, but with a chance to get to know one another better. After all, things moved quickly once the war ended.

Annabelle discovered almost immediately that married life was not what she had dreamt it would be. She knew that it would be a struggle going in and even after they had settled into their beautiful new estate, William Tavington's temperament proved to be an issue for his colleagues and his young bride alike.

Any exchanges of affection were made with discretion. William would frequent a wide bay window throughout his busy day. From there, he could almost always glimpse his Annabelle in the garden, lost in a rapture of movement and words as she acted out scenes from her favorite plays; or perhaps during her more peaceful hours, reclining on the green grass, with a tiny book of poetry clutched faithfully in her ivory hand.

Those occasional glances through the window along with her simple smiles from across the crowded dinner table each night always managed to bring him back down to earth. But those evening rides- oh! There was nothing sweeter to either of them than those precious hours that they spent together- William, Annabelle and Ohio.

So, they rode. They rode until the estate was nothing but a speck of white against the green horizon. Then, for the sake of achieving a complete escape, they passed through a forest that was dense and deep and didn't stop until they found a perfect place beneath a skylight to recline and observe the stars.

They left their horses to graze and stretched out on a soft patch of grass, side by side. William stole several glances of Annabelle's profile as she rested. The moon above set her face aglow and several flowers peeked through the long tresses of her hair- so pale that it was almost transparent. She looked more fairy than human in this moment.

"I want to sketch you," said he, "just like this." Luckily, restless little Annabelle remained still just long enough to fulfill this wish.

Keeping sketches of Annabelle nearby provided him with a channel back to serenity. Especially during his visits to other faraway landowners. He kept many books to record the plants that grew wild in Ohio, yes, but nearly all of them were infused with images sweet Annabelle- her tiny wrists and ankles, the waves in her hair, and, his most recent and favorite conquest of all, the way in which her slender fingers wrapped themselves around a pencil as she wrote her poems. She possessed so many charms and he tried in vain for many years to capture every one of them.

The rest of his wife, he knew from memory. He'd doted upon every inch of her precious body, burned each cadence of her voice into his mind as though they were the makings of his favorite song, and could recall and decipher each smile, smirk and frown with proficiency. Even during their most intimate moments, he gazed into Annabelle's sweet nuances of expression as though they were tidepools. Ecstasy, anguish, lust… he could glimpse each hidden jewel as they became conspicuous in those shallow waters below him.

Despite all of this, she remained an object of purity in his eyes. There was so much inside of her that he could never touch- never possess. She remained wild and untamed, despite his attempts to domesticate her. In time, he would learn to let her be. He would become an advocate for her untamed spirit just as he was for the uncultivated wilderness of Ohio.

William finished his sketch and thanked Annabelle for her patience with a gentle kiss to her brow. When at last she stirred, she saw that he was retrieving something from his saddlebag.

"What's this?" She asked, sitting upright and adjusting her long hair only slightly.

William held up a green bottle and moved back to her side. "Just a little inspiration." He removed the cap, took a sip and handed it to Annabelle.

She smiled as the clean, peppery fragrance of gin filled her nose. "You are so incurably British." Annabelle said, flirtatiously, raising the bottle to her lips and cringing slightly at the liquid's burning taste.

As she acclimated herself to the gin, William pulled a handful of wildflowers from the forest floor and started to braid them into her hair. "Perhaps this way, I'll get a poem out of you this evening."

"Oh, those are your intentions?" She asked, enjoying, as ever, the gentle sensation of William's haphazard braiding. "You should know by now that I don't require inebriation to write." She sipped deeply and handed the bottle off once his hands freed up. William did not accept it and instead, allowed the round bottle to roll across the grass. He led her golden head backwards to rest against his shoulder and kissed her mouth, deeply.

As they fell to the ground, Annabelle unraveled his dark waves and requested the removal of his coat by slipping her hands inside. They remained on the forest floor in an innocent embrace- stealing kisses and occasional sips of gin. The space was private enough to allow for intimacy, yes, but on this occasion the forest had reduced them to a far more childlike state.

"I'd like to hear a song." William suggested when Annabelle broke free from his arms to find something to write with. "What do you say, my love?"

She turned around with a stumble. "A fine idea!" Her green eyes glistened, mad and intoxicated. "I choose, you sing!"

"You're the one standing." His hair fell into his face as he sat upright. "I choose, you sing this time around. And I promise you, Darling, you shall receive only my most constructive criticism!"

Annabelle kicked off her shoes and started a clumsy, childlike dance beneath the spotlight of the moon. "Very well. First request?" Of the two, she had the better voice and was anything but discreet about the matter.

A challenging smile was born behind his piercing eyes of blue. " _Lillibulero_."

" _Lillibulero_?" Asked Annabelle, unimpressed.

" _Lillibulero_ is a fine song, Annabelle! But if you must decline… how about _The British Grenadiers_?"

"I rest my case, William Tavington, you are incurable! Here you are offering me constructive criticism and all that I am receiving is… destructive Briticism." She slurred.

"I think you're drunk." William stated with a smile. "Very well, you don't know the lyrics to either _Lillibulero_ or _The British Grenadiers_ … why not make up a melody for… _Sigh No More, Ladies_ from Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_?"

That was one request that she certainly could fulfill. It was not her best rendition, thanks to the gin, but once the song ended, she received the liveliest applause from her eager audience.

"Your turn, William. _Pardon, Goddess of the Night_ \- and don't shy away from the refrains." Annabelle said, gaily as she plopped down beside him.

"You don't want to give an encore performance?"

"Tell you what," she chimed, thinking herself rather clever, "how about I teach you a song for us to serenade Lord Cornwallis with during his next visit?"

"I think that is a terrible idea, Annabelle." He sneered, admiring the childlike way that she threw her golden head back in laughter at the thought.

"You're right. He's always demanded perfection from you. How about we agree to only sing it once you've learned it by heart?" She held out her hand and beamed when he shook it in agreement.

He sipped deeply from the green bottle and narrowed his eyes. "What is the song?"

" _Goober Peas_." Annabelle stated, entirely serious.

"And what, pray tell, is a… goober pea?"

"A peanut! I learned it during my short-lived career with the Militia!" She still couldn't get over his response to the song's title. "It's actually very easy to learn. We'll start with the chorus and work with the verses later."

After gaining Annabelle's approval for learning the (very silly) chorus, William grew pensive. "You've always been an extraordinary teacher. When we first met," he started, touching the smooth surface of his golden wedding band, "you were teaching at your father's schoolhouse. And you rather enjoyed it, too, if I remember right. I know that your life at the estate has been dull…"

"You're asking if I would like to return to teaching?" She concluded his thought.

"Ohio will need teachers, after all."

Annabelle allowed William's beautifully selfless offer to sink in and thanked him with a loving embrace. They were never able to have discussions like this back at the estate. Mind you, he was not entirely blind to her struggle with domesticity and had commissioned their garden with her need for escape in mind. But never before had her husband acknowledged just how dull her life had become. For this, she loved him tremendously.

"Being able to teach again will offer me perspective for when," Annabelle whispered into the white fabric of William's loose shirt, "well… what do you think of the name, Rosalind for a girl?"

The fingers of their left hands were laced and the moon, high above their heads, stared vainly at its own stunning reflection in their golden wedding bands. The corners of his handsome mouth arched into a grin as he repeated the potential name of their first child. "Rosalind…"


End file.
